


The Red Fruit

by Adenil



Series: 12 Days of Spones [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Rituals, Bickering, Fights, Fluff, Fun, Jim Kirk has had Enough, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Vulcan Culture, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: On a planet full of Canadian-wannabes you have to learn how to say "I'm sorry."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9: Gifts

Hantura was an utterly tranquil planet. The people were, as Spock had described them, “Not unlike your own 21st-Century Canadians.” The weather was certainly similar to a Canadian winter, and Leonard had to agree that the people here were just _nice_.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets and observed the locals moving about the town as he stood in the arched entry way of the town hall, where they had been conducting their negotiations. The people were all just as bundled up as he was, slipping and sliding on the ice that covered the walkways. A few had little metal spikes attached to their boots, which was a smart move, but most didn’t. He watched one amorphous-jacket-shaped person slip and crash into another. They both landed with a whump, and Leonard winced, starting to move forward automatically. But they picked themselves up and exchanged a copious number of apologies.

Leonard rolled his eyes. Maybe they were just little _too_ nice.

“Something amuses you, Doctor?”

Leonard jumped and turned to Spock, who was even more bundled up than he was. Spock was a shapeless mass of fabric with only his judging eyes showing. “Not at all,” he demurred. “Just admiring the weather.”

Spock looked around. “I was given to understand that you hailed from a region known for its excessive heat.”

“You’re right about that, but I don’t mind the cold occasionally.”

“Indeed.” Spock looked miserable.

Leonard took pity on him. “How are the negotiations going?”

“They are in recess. After your departure I believe the Captain found it difficult to proceed.”

“He missed my constant sarcasm, you mean.”

Spock’s hat shifted as he raised his eyebrow. “You do have a predilection for saying that which you do not mean.”

“Oh, I mean it.” He sighed and looked up to the gray sky. His breath fogged before him and he could feel ice crystals forming on his nose. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there and get some fresh air.”

“What about the Hanturans troubles you?”

“You kidding me?” Leonard gave Spock an incredulous look. What little he could see of Spock’s face looked nonplussed. “Look at them! They’re too nice.”

Spock squinted his eyes. “They are too nice,” he repeated flatly.

“Too nice! Gives me the willies. I don’t trust people that are this happy and nice all the time.”

Spock shuffled his feet. “I see. You believe that the Hanturans are not honest in their motives.”

“Oh, I’m sure their motives are fine. It’s just the way they act. It’s too…” He threw up his hands, at a loss. “Nice!”

“I believe they are honest in their intentions.”

“What?” Leonard frowned at him. “Spock do you… like them?” He couldn’t believe he even had to ask.

“Their mode of interaction is quite refreshing. Unlike you, I do not detect an underlying distaste beneath their kind exterior. Perhaps humans could learn something from them.”

Leonard stared at him. “You saying I’m not nice?”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“But you certainly implied it.” He rolled up on his toes and back down, honestly glad for a little Spockish argument to spice up his day. “Oh yes, it’s your favorite activity: mocking me.”

Spock hummed. “Although it is illogical to favor one activity over another, I could certainly list several other activities which would benefit from my attention. Further.” His hat quirked up again. “I do not ‘mock.’”

“No, you just ridicule, deride, and taunt. You’re twice as good at sarcasm as I’ll ever be, Spock.”

“I see no reason to say one thing and mean another. Honesty is another virtue from which humans could benefit.”

“We’re plenty honest. We just know enough not to say something that’ll get another person hurt.”

“Ah. Then you prefer to be nice?”

Leonard felt like he’d stumbled into a trap. “Hey, I didn’t say that.”

“Of course not.” Spock looked insufferably amused.

Leonard struggled to come up with some defense of his words. “You want my honest opinion?”

Spock blinked slowly. “I would relish it.”

He affected his best Georgian drawl, leaning in significantly and batting his eyelashes. “That hat, Mr. Spock, is not becoming on you at all. You’d be better off letting your ears freeze.”

He couldn’t tell if Spock was pouting behind the scarf, but he would have bet money he was. He quirked his eyebrow and shrugged, stepping around Spock and into the town hall. After a moment he heard Spock following close behind, and Leonard privately celebrated having the last word. For once.

Inside the hall was sweltering hot, and he stripped off his jacket as he walked, folding it over his arm before pushing open the door to the meeting room. Jim was there with his head in his hands, probably nursing another tension headache.

Leonard frowned. He heard Spock coming up behind him and stepped aside to make room automatically. “Head bothering you, Jim?”

“You two…” Jim said slowly. “Have the most impeccable sense of timing I’ve ever seen. Really, I should have seen this coming.”

He exchanged glances with Spock, who was out of all his winter clothes except for the hat. Probably just to spite him. “What?”

Before he could answer about twenty Hanturans came rushing through the door. Their leader, Mr. Brint–a squat little man with a big mustache–jogged over, worrying his hands together. Behind him, the other Hanturans were all covering their faces, making soft wailing sounds of disbelief.

“Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock, we could not bear to see you fighting!”

“What.” Leonard said.

“Fight?” Spock questioned. “To what do you refer?”

Brint waved his hand towards the wall and the curtain there parted to reveal a large screen where a still of Leonard and Spock was still visible. They’d paused it at an unfortunate time for Leonard, catching his mouth in a round “o” of disgust.

“We watched the whole thing,” Jim said, voice utterly flat. “I had thirty crying Hanturans on my hands.”

“Indeed,” said Brint. “Some of my people were forced to retire for the evening to rest. But please, there is still time to make amends to one another! We have seen that you are great friends. Do not allow this argument to drive you apart.”

“Drive us apart?” Leonard looked incredulously at Spock. “Do you feel driven apart, Spock?”

“Never,” he said flatly.

“See? We’re fine,” Leonard said, turning back to Brint. “Now, I don’t see what all the hubbub is about, but maybe we can get back to—”

“Unacceptable!” Brint shouted, and then quickly clapped his hands over his mouth as a young man behind him fainted to the ground and two women began to wail. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly sorry for my outburst. But you see, you must apologize. We should hate to be the place where you find yourselves torn apart by hatred!”

Jim suddenly sat up and Leonard saw that, contrary to what he might have guessed, Jim actually had the most enormous, shit-eating grin on his face. “Yes, Bones. You and Mr. Spock need to apologize to one another.”

Leonard gaped at him.

“That’s an order,” Jim added, his smile hardening around the edges.

“You can’t order me to do that!”

“Doctor, perhaps it is best if we acquiesce.”

“No!” Leonard whipped around, glowering at him. “You should be on my side in this,” he hissed. “They can’t order us to apologize. That’s absurd.”

“Maybe not, Bones, but Starfleet order 10.01 does state that I can order you to participate in an alien ritual if I think it’s for the betterment of the mission. So. Complete the ritual.”

“Order 10.02.B, Captain.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock.” Jim sighed, long-suffering.

Leonard ground his teeth and glared sharply at Spock, then at Brint, then at Jim who–of all people–should know better. “Fine,” he said. “But he has to apologize first.”

“Bones.”

“I have already agreed to do so, Doctor.”

“That didn’t sound like an apology to me.”

Spock was suspiciously silent. Brint made a worried sound.

Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and looked pointedly at Jim, who was back to rubbing at his head. Definitely a headache, then.

“Very well, gentlemen,” he said, obviously using the word very loosely. “On three. One.” He glared at Spock. “Two.” He glared at Leonard. “Three.” He somehow managed to glare at both of them as they glanced around and down, silent.

“Oh, this is much worse than I thought,” Brint cried. “Aide!” He snapped his fingers. “Prepare the ritual fruit at once!”

One of the Hanturans broke off from the pack, running for the door.

“Ritual fruit?” Leonard asked, confused, but before he could get an answer a dozen hands were on him, pulling him from the room and down the hall.

He stumbled and then he and Spock were walking side-by-side, both propelled down the hall and into the antechamber, then beyond into a much darker and dingier looking corner of the building. He could hear Jim yelling in vain somewhere far behind them, and then they were abruptly thrust into a small room.

He tripped again and Spock caught him, setting him upright as he grumbled about damned unhospitable aliens. Spock’s hat shifted as he raised his brow.

There was a little table in the center of the room, and Leonard watched as the aide came in with a bowl of water with chunks of snow floating in it. He set it on the table and then placed a little knife and a folded towel by it. Leonard glowered at him.

“What’s going on, here?” he snapped.

The aide didn’t answer. He just let out a squeak and held out an odd, red fruit. “Please, accept the fruit,” he said.

“This pomegranate?” Leonard asked, taking it.

“It appears to be a yon-savas,” Spock said, coming over to peer over his shoulder.

“You must complete the ritual to make amends,” the aide explained. “Gift the fruit to the one you have wronged, and then work together to open and consume it. Then your hearts will be mended.” He was halfway out the door by the time he finished, and he shut it tightly before Leonard could move a muscle.

“Wait, why are you the one wronged by me?” He hefted the pomegranate-looking thing in his hand. “You should be giving me a fruit.”

“I will not,” Spock said. He walked towards the door and tested the handle, frowning. “We appear to be locked in.”

“They’re probably watching us again,” Leonard guessed, looking around the room for any sign of cameras. He didn’t see any, but that meant little.

“Indeed.” Spock performed a slow turn, examining the room. “I suggest we wait for the captain to retrieve us.”

Leonard remembered Jim’s disappointed look, and he winced. “Yeah, I get the feeling that won’t be happening for a while.”

Spock’s mouth formed a little moue of distaste. “I must accede to your logic in this case.”

“Well.” Leonard let out a sigh and collapsed into the chair. He twirled the red fruit in his hand, admiring its shine. “Might as well get this over with. Here’s your fruit, Spock.”

Spock stayed across the room, hands folded behind his back. “I am fine, thank you.”

“Spock,” he said testily.

Spock’s entire body seemed to twitch. He took a few mincing steps and reached out, accepting the fruit. His frown deepened. He held it in his hands, studying it and turning it over.

“What are you—?” Leonard jumped as Spock abruptly ripped the fruit in half.

“Remarkable.”

“It is just like a pomegranate.” Leonard poked at it, flicking away a little bit of white membrane.

Spock drew back the fruit and slid the pieces into the bowl of water. “A yon-savas is also similar.” He took his seat opposite Leonard.

Leonard scooched up to the table and leaned on it, grinning. He watched the fruit softening in the water. “You know, I think you were supposed to cut into it.”

“That is not the proper way to eat the yon-savas. They are to be…” Spock hesitated, and Leonard glanced up, surprised. He didn’t see Spock hesitant very often. Spock’s gaze flickered up, meeting Leonard’s eyes. “There are many myths surrounding fruits on Vulcan.”

“We’ve got time, Spock. Care to share?”

Spock clearly did not wish to. He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at the water bowl. “Before the time of Surak, it was associated with fertility.”

Leonard blinked. “Oh.”

“The fruit was to be split by the hands and soaked. The ability to acquire enough water for the task was seen as a sign of wealth and prestige, a vital attribute in a future lover. Then the seeds would be carefully removed and the lovers would feed one another. When the ritual was complete, they were considered promised to one another.”

“That’s, huh.” Leonard shifted around in his seat, trying to stop imaging Spock feeding him pomegranate seeds. “What about after the time of Surak?”

“The meaning shifted. It is still associated with fruitfulness. They are, after all, grown only where there is water in plenty. But the fruit represents measured wisdom. Each of its 613 seeds represents one of the principles of logic.”

“How can you know how many seeds it has?” Leonard leaned in to frown at the fruit.

Spock looked slightly amused. “It is an allegory.” He lifted his hands and slid them into the water, frowning slightly as his fingers swirled through the snow.

“Here, let me.” Leonard tugged on Spock’s sleeve until he removed his hands, and then he set to work. He carefully broke apart the fruit, careful not to pop the juicy seed capsules. The water was quite cold, even for him, and he was glad he hadn’t let Spock subject himself to it. The Vulcan already had trouble regulating his body heat. He didn’t need the added difficulty of sticking his hands in a bowl of ice water.

He started to set aside the little capsules, laying them out on the towel. He only realized that he had been working in utter silence when he’d almost finished. He glanced up under his eyelashes at Spock, who was staring very intently at his hands as he worked.

“Something on your mind, Spock?” he asked softly.

Spock looked up, and Leonard’s breath caught in his chest. Spock looked… Intense. Heated. It made Leonard shift again in his seat, confused.

“Nothing but my calculations, Doctor,” Spock said, therefore proving that he was fully capable of saying one thing and meaning another.

Leonard gulped. “I’m almost done.”

He finished quickly and dried his fingers off on the towel. He chose one of the heftier chunks of fruit without thinking and held it out to Spock.

Spock glanced at the fruit, and then back to his eyes. He carefully plucked it from Leonard’s fingertips and ate it. Spock picked up his own piece and handed it to Leonard, who repeated the gesture, internally screaming for someone to say something. For just a second, their fingers touched, and he felt the warmth of Spock’s skin, the rough callouses at the points of his fingers. Hastily, he withdrew his hand and popped the pomegranate into his mouth.

Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he cleared his throat, staring at the table. He kept rubbing his fingers together, like he might be able to dislodge the feeling of Spock that still clung to them. “Spock, I—”

“Finally!” Jim kicked in the door and grabbed Leonard by the arm. “Took you gentlemen long enough. Come along, Spock. Let’s finish these negotiations.”

Jim dragged him from the room despite his complaining and his backwards glances to Spock. Spock followed like a shadow, utterly silent and hot on their heels.They finished the rest of the negotiations easily enough, now that the Hanturans didn’t think they were savages any more. He didn’t even try to pick another fight with Spock, too busy thinking about the fruit floating in the bowl.

When they finally beamed back to the ship he was exhausted, and Jim was pleased as punch. He clapped Leonard on the back and disappeared, and Spock merely nodded and went on his way as well. Leonard slunk back to his quarters, fully intent on sleeping for a million years.

He was still wide awake several hours later when his door chimed.

He stood, groaning, and keyed open the door. Spock was standing there with his hands folded behind his back, one now-visible eyebrow raised curiously.

“…May I come in, Doctor?” he asked after a moment.

“Right.” Leonard jumped and stepped aside, letting Spock follow him in. He shook his head, cursing himself for being so easily distracted. “What can I—” He words died on his lips.

Spock tipped his head, the red fruit shining in his hands, significant.

Leonard just looked at it.

After a moment, Spock seemed to waver. He began to withdraw his hand. “I apologize if I misread the situation.”

“No!” Leonard snapped forward, wrapping his hands around Spock’s, holding the fruit and Spock. “I was just…surprised.”

Spock relaxed, a little warmth softening the corner of his mouth. “If you wish,” he said quietly, stepping into Leonard, who was still staring at the fruit like it might bite him. “The ritual need not be completed immediately.”

“Oh,” Leonard breathed. “Spock… I just, need to think about it.”

“I understand.” He turned his hand over, depositing the fruit. Leonard took it numbly. “Consider it a gift.”

He stared at the pomegranate–the yon-savas. Whatever it was, it was significant. His mouth was dry as he gulped.

Spock’s eyes were sparkling now. “Good night, Doctor. I suggest you rest.”

“Right, you too,” he said stupidly.

Spock nodded to him and turned, striding from the room like he’d gotten exactly what he came for. Leonard watched, stunned, until Spock keyed open the door and then he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Spock!”

He paused, standing in the door frame half-in and half-out of the hall. He glanced back, eyebrow raised. “Yes, Doctor?”

Leonard was across the room before he quite knew what he was doing. The fruit was solid between them as he bounced up on his toes, planting a tiny kiss on Spock’s lips. Spock’s eyes went wide, and Leonard certainly didn’t miss the way he tried to follow Leonard as he pulled away.

“I lied,” he said, grinning. “That hat is actually perfect on you. You’re the cutest damned Vulcan I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Spock’s mouth did a funny little thing at the corner, just a little twitch of amusement that made Leonard grin even wider. “I know,” he said, and stepped out into the corridor.

Leonard hefted the fruit in his hand, turning it around. He tossed it in the air and caught it again, laughing to himself. He set it on his desk, already planning just how he would bring it back to Spock tomorrow, water in hand.


End file.
